


Odds Against

by thirty2flavors



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Relationship, F/M, Post-Canon, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-22
Updated: 2018-05-22
Packaged: 2019-05-10 00:50:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14726831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thirty2flavors/pseuds/thirty2flavors
Summary: Sasha was used to keeping secrets. She’d kept lots of secrets from lots of people for most of her life. Keeping a secret was usually easier than telling the truth.Lying to Rhys was harder than lying to other people.//Faced with some unexpected news, Sasha wrestles with her options. Meanwhile: Rhys jumps to conclusions.





	Odds Against

**Author's Note:**

> Babyfic? On my AO3? It's more likely than you think. 
> 
> This is, loosely, a prompt fill for @lesbidar, who'd requested Rhys/Sasha and the prompt "I should have told you a long time ago." Which I, uh, sort of misremembered, but here we are. 
> 
> Not a direct sequel to [Incubation Period](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13869795), exactly, but I did write this assuming the same continuity.

“I wanna go see Fiona.”

“Huh?” Leaning on his desk and concentrating hard on his screen display, Rhys took a few extra seconds to process the words. “Oh, yeah, that’d be fun.” He gestured with his right hand and the display switched. “After next week I could take some time—”

“I’m gonna go tomorrow,” said Sasha, and Rhys paused in his scrolling. “Alone.”

Rhys looked up, squinting at her through the gap between his displays. On the other side of his desk, Sasha fidgeted.

“I just… wanna spend some time with her, just the two of us,” she clarified. “It’s been a while since. I—it’d be nice. Besides, you’re busy.” With a stiff smile, she gestured at his desk. “I’ll be out of your way.” 

“Oh.” Wrongfooted, Rhys smiled back anyway. “Right. Sure. Well, I’d say ‘don’t do anything I wouldn’t do’, but things I wouldn’t do are pretty much exclusively what the two of you get up to, so…”

“Yeah.” Sasha’s smile stayed fixed in place as she stepped backwards toward the door. “Gonna pack. I’ll see you later.”

“Sure,” said Rhys, and went back to his work. It wasn’t until Sasha’s hand was on the doorknob that he snapped out of his trance, rolling his chair to the side of his desk to see her properly. “Hey, Sash. Everything all right?”

Perfect and plastic, Sasha’s smile didn’t flicker. “‘Course.”

* * *

Sasha said little that night, ate less, and headed to bed early.

“Just tired,” she’d said when Rhys had asked.

Still, the next morning she was ready to go before Rhys had even finished styling his hair for work. 

“How long are you gone?” asked Rhys while he buttoned his shirt.

“Not sure.” Sasha wore the same smile from yesterday, like she’d left it on the bedroom floor and put it on again, wrinkled and not quite right. “A few days, at least.” 

Doing his best not to look or sound disappointed, Rhys focused on his collar instead. “Well, take good care of Fiona. You know the rules: don’t get her wet, don’t feed her after midnight…”

Sasha rolled her eyes, but the twitch of amusement in her lips looked genuine. “Bye, Rhys.”

“Wait.” He grabbed her by the wrist before she stepped away, dipping down for a kiss, and Sasha tipped up her chin to meet him. “Love you,” he said.

Sasha hummed as she broke away. “Yeah.” She fastened the last of his buttons. “Gotta go.”

Rhys frowned; not quite the reaction he’d been hoping for. He held onto her wrist, rubbing it with his thumb. “You’d tell me if something was wrong.” He bumped his forehead up against hers. “Right?”

Sasha pulled back with a smile, dazzling and wide and utterly unconvincing. 

“I’ll see you soon, babe,” she said, and then she was gone.

* * *

Fiona was seated atop a crate, waiting, when Sasha arrived in Sanctuary. 

“Sash!” With a grin as wide as her hat’s brim, Fiona hopped down, slung her arm around Sasha’s shoulders and steered her into the city. “So, I know you told me not to plan anything, but hear me out—”

“Fi—”

“There’s a guy who makes the best pizzas—okay, not the best, but they’re edible—mostly edible—and more importantly, he owes me some favours, so they’re totally free—”

“Fi, I really—”

“Second, we have got to hit up Moxxi’s, there’s a cocktail that will knock you on your ass—”

“Fi, I—”

“Lastly, I know you’re ‘retired’, but I’ve been trying to follow this lead for ages and this guy _totally_ knows something—”

“I really need to—”

“But he refuses to talk to me because he says people with hats are untrustworthy—whatever the hell _that’s_ code for—”

“Fiona—”

“So I was thinking, maybe you could give it a go? You always had better luck sweet-talking dudes, right? So—”

“I’m _pregnant!_ ” Sasha burst out. 

Fiona stopped dead in her tracks, mouth ajar but speechless. Slackened in surprise, her arm slipped halfway off Sasha’s shoulder.

Sasha took advantage of her sister’s stunned silence to repeat the phrase stuck on disbelieving loop in her mind for two days. “Fi, I’m pregnant.” 

“Holy shit,” said Fiona. “I guess we better start with the pizza.”

* * *

By the time Fiona’s half of the pizza box had been picked clean, Sasha’s was still untouched, save for a piece she’d ripped in half and was meticulously pulling apart. She’d been quiet since her confession: quiet as they went to get the pizza, quiet as they walked back to Fiona’s tiny apartment, quieter still as they sat down cross-legged on Fiona’s bed to eat. 

Fiona tried her best to fill the silence without asking any probing questions. She talked about Sanctuary, about the weather, about the other vault hunters she’d met, about leads she’d followed that had gone nowhere, and that one person who’d offered her $5000 if she could prove the local bakery had stolen his cupcake recipe. Years of practice meant Fiona could fill a lot of silence. 

But now Fiona had run out of pizza, things to say, and patience. 

“What are you gonna do?” she asked finally, gently, watching as Sasha extricated and ate a single piece of pepperoni.

Sasha frowned but didn’t look up. “I don’t know.”

“What do you _want_ to do?” 

Sasha’s frown deepened. “I… don’t know.” 

For a terrifying second, she looked as though she might cry. Fiona placed a hand on Sasha’s knee, and Sasha squeezed it with greasy fingers.

Part of Fiona had been bracing for this conversation for years now, ever since Sasha started returning the stares she won so easily. Back then, she’d always imagined the conversation would have one particular outcome, and Fiona had been ready for it. 

This was not like she imagined. This could go any number of ways, and Fiona wasn’t sure what to expect. 

“Have you told him?” asked Fiona, when Sasha said nothing else. 

Rhys, as far as Fiona could see, was the wildcard, the variable that prevented Sasha’s choice from being a foregone conclusion. No one in the world was good enough for her little sister, but—grudging though Fiona was to admit it—Rhys came closer than anyone else she’d met. 

Fiona hoped he wouldn’t do something now to change her mind.

“Not yet.” Sasha fiddled with her bracelets. “I wanted to… to know how I felt, first.”

“Well, if you need me to beat him up, I’m happy to do it,” said Fiona. 

Sasha glared, which wasn’t quite what Fiona’d been aiming for, but at least it was eye contact. Fiona grinned.

“Just an offer. It’d be easy, and probably kinda fun.” She lowered her voice into what could best be described as a parody of a mobster from several centuries ago and cracked her knuckles. “I could teach him a lesson, if you know what I— _ow_.” Fiona rubbed her ribs where Sasha had elbowed her.

“It’s not Rhys I’m worried about,” said Sasha. “It’s…” She thought about it for a second, and then shook her head with a soft laugh. “Everything else.” She stared down at her lap, fingers twisting together, her expression sad. “I don’t want a baby to grow up like we did.”

“It wouldn’t.” 

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do—” 

“No, you don’t!” insisted Sasha. “This is Pandora. Anything could happen. I could have this baby and two days later Rhys and I could be trampled by a rakk hive, and next thing you know, the baby’s living on the streets and lifting wallets and eating out of the garbage—”

“I mean, I’ve never seen a baby pickpocket before,” said Fiona. “It honestly sounds kind of impressive—”

“It’s not a joke!” Sasha snapped, enough bite in her voice that Fiona pulled back. “How can I have a kid when I know what it’s like to be a kid here? Just the thought of a baby—of _my_ baby—having to do the things we did—what kind of person would I be if—?”

“Sasha. Stop.” Fiona clapped an authoritative hand on her sister’s shoulder. “Look at me.” She waited until Sasha met her eyes. “That’s not going to happen, and I’ll tell you why.”

A crease of skepticism formed on Sasha’s forehead, but she said nothing. Taking it as encouragement, Fiona held her by both shoulders and leaned forward until they were eye to eye.

“I know you don’t remember, but our mom? She was doing it all on her own. Dad was long gone. It was already hard. When she…” Fiona’s voice hitched. “Without her, there was no one else. It was just me and you. But that wouldn’t happen to any baby of yours.” She gripped Sasha’s shoulders tighter. “It’s not just you. It’s not even just you and Rhys. There’s me. There’s Vaughn. There’s Gortys and LB and Athena and Janey and August and Yvette. Hell, there’s like, an entire cult worshipping your boyfriend who would probably leap at the chance to change his kid’s diaper—”

Sasha folded her arms and narrowed her eyes dangerously.

“I’m serious! It’d probably be their new messiah or something. They’ll dig up some other, slightly smaller headless statue and—”

“Fi,” said Sasha warningly.

“—anyway,” said Fiona, replacing her grin with a serious look. “The point is, if you have this baby, there are a _lot_ of people who are gonna love it. It’s never gonna end up alone like we were. I promise. Okay?” 

Rare vulnerability glistened in Sasha’s eyes, so much like Fiona’s own. But she nodded. “Okay.”

Fiona gave Sasha’s shoulders one last comforting squeeze before she let her hands fall away. “Whatever you decide to do, Sash, I’m with you every step.”

“I know.” Finally, finally, Sasha smiled. “You always are.” She picked up a slice of pizza and moved the box aside, leaning into Fiona’s shoulder as she ate. “Thanks, Fi.” 

“Anytime, sis.” 

Fiona helped herself to the wreckage of the slice Sasha had left behind, and for a moment they ate in companionable silence. 

Then Fiona nudged Sasha’s knee with her own. 

“Ten bucks says Rhys cries when you tell him.”

* * *

“Dude, you’re even worse at this game than I remember, and I don’t remember you being very good.”

An electronic trumpet sound heralded the death of Rhys’ avatar at the hands of Vaughn’s for the sixth consecutive time. 

“I’m out of practice,” Rhys muttered. “I’m a busy man now, all right? I don’t have time to brush up on my _Bonestorm_ skills.”

“You’re the one that owns it,” said Vaughn, shrugging. “Y’know, I thought that robot arm would give you better reflexes.”

“Whatever.” With a sigh, Rhys tossed the controller onto the coffee table in defeat and grabbed his beer instead. “I’m distracted, okay?”

“I thought _this_ was supposed to be the distraction. That was the whole point.” Vaughn gestured to the table of junk food and the decades-old video game, but as Rhys slumped back against the sofa, cradling his beer, Vaughn softened. “What’s going on?”

Rhys frowned but stayed quiet, picking at the label on his beer bottle. He didn’t want to say it. He didn’t even want to think it, although for three days now he had been, basically non-stop. If he said it outloud, one of two things would happen: he’d be wrong, and he’d feel like a paranoid idiot. 

Or he’d be right, and that’d be worse.

Vaughn nudged him. “Dude. Spill.”

“I think…” Rhys scraped at the label adhesive with his nail. “I think something’s wrong with Sasha.” He paused and swallowed. “I think she wants to leave me.”

“What?” Vaughn’s surprise was, at least, gratifying. “Why?” 

Rhys shrugged, like he hadn’t been asking himself that same question for days and preparing a long list of potential answers. “I work too much. She wants to leave Pandora, and I’m tied to Atlas. She hates half my music. I made breakfast the other day and gave her food poisoning. Sometimes I put the water jug back in the fridge when it’s empty, even though she’s told me a hundred times—”

“I _meant_ , why do you think she wants to leave you?” It was impossible to miss the note of skepticism in Vaughn’s tone, which was equal parts comforting and infuriating. “Because she… went to visit her sister?”

“No,” said Rhys, looking up from the bottle long enough to scowl. “Because she’s been weird about going to visit her sister.” The label peeled off under his thumb. “Like she couldn’t get away from me fast enough.”

“I think you’re being dramatic, bro.”

“I am _not_ being dramatic,” Rhys huffed. “Something’s wrong. I can tell. I asked, but she brushes me off with that... con-woman voice.” He rubbed his eyes with his thumb and his forefinger. “I called her last night, just to check in, but we only talked for like a minute before she made an excuse to leave.” 

“Hmm.” Vaughn sipped his own beer pensively. “I guess you’re right, then. She probably wanted Fiona’s help to put a hit out on you.”

Rhys glared. “It’s not funny. Don’t laugh at my impending heartbreak.”

“You’re catastrophizing,” Vaughn insisted. “Things have been good, right? She goes to visit her sister one time, and suddenly—”

“It’s _not_ because she’s visiting Fiona,” muttered Rhys.

“Maybe she just needed some space,” said Vaughn, ignoring Rhys’ mutinous pout. “You guys have been together for ages. It happens. I’m sure it’s fine.” 

Rhys ripped the label off his beer and drank the rest of it in one long swig. 

Vaughn sighed. “Look, either you’re wrong—which you probably are—and you’re making yourself sad about nothing, or you’re right, in which case being pre-emptively sad isn’t helping anyway.”

Vaughn sounded very confident, which might have made Rhys feel better if he could stop remembering that eerie smile Sasha wore when she told him again and again that things were fine. 

He closed his eyes, slumping backwards in an effort to disappear into the sofa cushion. Thing was, it fit the general trajectory of all Rhys’ relationships: everything was fine, until all of the sudden it wasn’t. He was always the last to know. 

“I’m just… worried,” he said. An understatement. 

Something warm squeezed his shoulder. He looked up to find Vaughn watching him, sincere and concerned.

“I know,” he said. “Come on. No more wallowing about something that hasn’t happened.” Vaughn tossed the controller back into Rhys’ lap. “Wallow about something that _is_ happening, like how I’m totally gonna kick your ass for the seventh time.”

Rhys sniffed and nodded. He set his empty bottle on the carpet, then picked up the controller and sat up straight. “Oh, you’re on.”

* * *

Sasha came home nearly a week after she left. 

Rhys was still at the office when she arrived, leaving her with a last handful of hours alone with her secret. Sasha was used to keeping secrets. She’d kept lots of secrets from lots of people for most of her life. Keeping a secret was usually easier than telling the truth.

More and more, Rhys had become an exception to the rule. Lying to Rhys was harder than lying to other people. It was also less enjoyable. Besides, now that she’d gathered her courage, waiting a few extra hours to rip off the bandaid felt unbearable. 

She lasted thirty-three minutes before she called and asked him to come home. 

“Kinda busy,” said Rhys, who sounded far away even though he wasn’t. “I’ll be home in a few hours.”

“Please?” she asked, and there was a short silence before he sighed.

“Yeah." His voice was heavy. "I’ll be right there.” 

Sasha spent the additional twenty minutes that took pacing back and forth through their apartment, tidying for the sake of having something to do. She was nervously rearranging the comforter in the bedroom when the front door clicked shut.

“Sasha?” Rhys’ voice was both timid and concerned. “Are you okay?”

Sasha stood up, fiddling with her bracelets as she moved to the bedroom doorway. 

“I, um.” She adjusted her headband and leaned against the doorframe. “I need to talk to you.” She gestured behind herself to the freshly-made bed. “You might wanna…” 

Were she not so nervous herself, she might have noticed how anxious Rhys looked. As it was, she noticed only the way he stared at the floor as he walked past, the somber expression as he perched himself on the corner of the bed. 

It wasn’t the rapt audience she’d anticipated. She swallowed and looked at her shoes, nibbling on her bottom lip. _Just say it_ , she told herself. Just like with Fiona. Just—

“Sasha, you don’t have to…” She looked up, and Rhys sent her a weird sort of smile. “I think I know what you’re gonna say.”

Sasha stared back. “You do?”

“Yeah.” The weird smile turned sort of... sad? That didn’t seem right. “It wasn’t that hard to figure out.”

Sasha frowned. “It wasn’t?”

“I mean, I do kind of know you a little,” he said, and though he grinned, it was subdued.

“Oh.” She took a step closer to the bed and flashed a nervous smile. “Well. Right.” 

Then Rhys looked at the floor again, and there was definitely something sad about it. In all the numerous variations on this conversation she’d mentally replayed over the last week, none of them had started with Rhys being sad. Sasha hugged her arms around herself. Was he angry with her? 

Rhys cleared his throat. “Can I just ask when…?” 

“Oh! Um, I think it’s about… eight weeks, now?”

“Eight weeks?” Rhys repeated.

“Best guess, yeah. Fiona and I were doing the math.”

“Eight weeks,” he said again, stuck on the first question of a quiz.

“You know when we found that list of worst cocktails and decided to make all of them? We, uh, weren’t as careful as we could’ve been. Remember?” 

Rhys stared at her.

Sasha frowned. “I’m sorry, Rhys, I should’ve told you sooner. I was just...” Her voice trailed away. She shrugged.

For another second, Rhys only gawped at her like a fish. And then he said, “You’re _pregnant_ ,” like he’d cracked some kind of mystical code.

“Yeah...” Sasha’s eyebrows knit together. “Wait, what did you think we were talking about?”

Rhys gave no sign of having heard anything else she said. His eyes widened considerably. “Oh my god. You’re pregnant.”

“Um… surprise?” 

Sasha’s hands twisted together, and her heart leapt into her throat. Rhys’ face stayed frozen, caught between expressions like a single frame plucked from a movie. He stared at her stomach as though hoping to see something there, and Sasha fleetingly wondered about the capability of his ECHO eye. 

“Wow, speechless, huh? That’s new,” she joked, although the accompanying laugh was thin and unconvincing. “Should’ve brought a camera.” When that didn’t win an answer, she tried again, shy and serious. “Rhys, are you… happy?”

Finally he looked up at her face again. “Well, I thought you were breaking up with me, so this has been a real rollercoaster, let me tell you.”

Sasha blinked. “Wait, you—what?”

“Are you?” he asked immediately. “Happy, I mean. ‘Cause… ‘cause I feel like your answer kinda impacts mine. Are you happy?” 

Fiona had asked the same question a hundred different ways, though never in those words. Sasha had hoped, by now, to have a better answer. 

She didn’t. 

“I’m scared,” she admitted. She chewed her bottom lip, watching the carpet. “Not because… because I don’t…” She floundered, hands waving nervously before she took a breath and met his eyes. “If I’m going to do this with anyone, I want to do this with you. The idea of—of a family, with you, it’s... I like it.” A shy smile found its way to her lips. “I like it a lot.”

For a split second, Rhys smiled, and then it was gone, replaced by something cautious and patient. “But?”

“But…” She hesitated another second, and then it all tumbled out at once. “I don’t remember my mom, at all. How can I be a good mother when I don’t even know what that is? And—and I don’t know anything about babies. I can count the number of babies I’ve held on one hand and still have fingers to spare. What if I’m bad at it? Or what if—what if something happens to you, or the baby, or—what if—”

“Whoa, hey, hey, Sash.” Rhys held up his hands to slow her tirade, and Sasha stopped, taking a deep breath. “C’mere.” 

He beckoned her forward and Sasha approached until she was in arm’s reach before Rhys grabbed her by the hands and tugged her the rest of the way. 

“Okay, number one, you don’t need to have a mom to be a good one. That’s not how it works. I promise.” He squeezed her hands, thumb brushing the back of her knuckles. “You’re strong and brave and you care way more than you ever wanna admit. You'd be great.” He grinned. “Besides, I’m sure Fiona taught you everything you could possibly need to know to be an alarmingly intimidating mama bear.”

Sasha shook her head, but her lips twitched in a smile.

“Number two.” He wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her between his knees and peering up at her from the bed. “When I was fourteen I took a babysitting certification course, so I’m basically a professional.”

Sasha snorted.

“And number three,” he went on, “it’s actually reassuring to know you’re capable of feeling fear. I was starting to wonder.”

Sasha scowled and punched him on the shoulder, but Rhys only grinned.

“It’s okay to be scared, Sash,” he said, his voice warm and gentle. “I’d be kind of worried if you weren’t. It’s pretty scary. But… a lot of the best things are. Like opening a Vault. Or any public display of affection when your sister’s in the room.” He pulled Sasha as close as he could, until her knees were pressed into the mattress. “And there’s no one I’d rather start a terrifying, life-altering adventure with.”

Something inside Sasha melted, spreading warmth to the tips of her fingers. She brushed her hand through Rhys’ hair and left it there, stroking the port at his temple with her thumb. 

“Are we really doing this?” she asked quietly.

Rhys’ hand was warm against the small of her back. “Do you want to?”

For one last second of indecision, Sasha pressed her lips together. 

And then she nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

“Well, then.” Rhys’ face split into the widest grin she’d ever seen. “Let’s make a baby.”

“Already did that part, babe. That’s the whole point.”

“It’s an expression,” he said, and then he stretched up to kiss her before she could correct him again. 

Fingers fisted in his hair, Sasha returned the kiss eagerly, letting the stress of the past week chip away as she focused on the taste of his lips, the steadiness of his arms around her waist. 

“Love you,” she mumbled, kissing the corner of his mouth. 

“You, too.” He dipped his head under hers to kiss the hollow of her collarbone. “Super glad you didn’t break up with me just now.”

Sasha pulled back to wrinkle her nose. “ _Why_ did you think—hey!”

Rhys grabbed her by the hips and tossed her onto the bed next to him.

“So heavy,” he teased as he climbed over top of her. “I should’ve known.”

“Asshole.” Sasha put a hand on his shoulder and shoved, though she grinned. “I’m not heavy, you’re just weak.”

Rhys grinned back. “Maybe.” 

He slid both hands under her shirt, hiking it up so he could trail his mouth down her bare stomach while Sasha squirmed happily. He kissed the patch of skin that held the scar from Felix’s stopwatch, and then he stopped, propping himself up on his elbows.

“There’s a baby in there,” he said, resting his palm on her belly. Sasha shivered at the cold metal. 

“I don’t think it’s much of a baby yet,” said Sasha. “Fiona and I looked it up. It’s like, the size of a jellybean.”

“Well—” he kissed her stomach again “—I’m sure it’s the _cutest_ jellybean.” 

Sasha shrugged. “Not really. It’s like a freaky alien.” She scrunched her fingers in demonstration. 

Rhys narrowed his eyes impatiently. “Okay, will you please just let me appreciate the freaky alien jellybean child?” 

“ _Our_ freaky alien jellybean child,” she corrected.

In an instant, Rhys’ expression softened. He looked at her with so much awe that Sasha’s cheeks flushed.

“Yeah,” he agreed, voice thick. “Ours.”

“Babe…” Sasha’s heart swelled her chest. “Are you crying?”

“No,” said Rhys, though his eyes were suspiciously glossy. “I’m… just… leaking happiness.”

She ruffled his hair. “Cause if you’re crying, I owe Fiona ten dollars.” 

Rhys pouted in mock-offense and shook his head. “Well, gee, I’m very sorry if my totally natural emotional reaction to our baby is a financial burden to you.”

"Nah.” She swiped away the stray tear that spilled onto his cheek, then guided his head up to hers and gave him a kiss. “Best ten dollars I ever spent.”

**Author's Note:**

> say hi on Tumblr: [@oodlyenough](http://oodlyenough.tumblr.com)


End file.
